


A lonely night

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Crying, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm, Other, Sad, Self Confidence Issues, Self Loathing, Sexual Fantasy, inner monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'd love to read an angsty fic where either Javert or Grantaire imagines bedding Valjean/Enjolras while masturbating.<br/>But instead of it being just a normal, UST - filled Saturday night, the part of his mind that is not occupied with self-gratification keeps interrupting the fantasy with the thoughts that his love is most likely unrequited, that he will never be loved, and then with general thoughts that slowly rip his self-esteem apart. Bonus for crying and confused, rude boners that demand attention even in the middle of mental turmoil.</p>
<p>So, here Grantaire thinks about Enjolras, and at the same time he feels really down, he feels worthless, he knows that Enjolras would never love him back... But yet he is aroused, so his thoughts are very mixed.<br/>This is mostly an inner monologue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lonely night

Drunk, extremely horny and alone in his bed Grantaire let his mind wander when he took out his prick from his trousers and started jerking it violently.  
“God… I am so fucking hard right now… Enjolras. I would do anything to have him. I would do anything to have him in my bed, fuck, I would do anything to have him close, I would do anything to even have him smile at me now and then. But he wouldn’t do that.” He stroked his cock a little harder. “He wouldn’t! Because Enjolras, angel-faced, stern Enjolras despises me. He even said so himself. Not right out, naturally, he wouldn’t do that, but I could feel it in his voice, see it in his face, his beautiful, beautiful fucking face. He would never love me, he would never lust for me, he would never think a warm, kind thought about me. Because I’m not someone he would respect, and respect is important for him. He respects people. It would be an honour to be respected by him. And if I had him… Oh, I want him in my bed, I would undress him ever so slowly, I would enjoy the sight of every single part of his body. I bet he looks even more gorgeous without clothes…”  
He panted a little and sighed, he loosened the grip on his erection. “What’s the point? What’s the point of fantasizing? He would never undress for me, he would never smile at me. I love him, and if he knew that he would despise me even more. He would be so fucking disgusted. I drink too much, and he dislikes drunkards. He even gets annoyed at Joly when he is too drunk, and he isn’t nearly as rowdy as me… or Bahorel… He respects Bahorel, though, and he respects Joly. He doesn’t respect me. On a bad day I think, oh, if only I was pretty, but then I realize that it doesn’t matter. He isn’t shallow. Why am I not Feuilly? Or Courfeyrac or Combeferre? Not that he would fall for them either, but at least they are close to him, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. And he respects Feuilly. I’m a failure.” He gave his prick a hard squeeze.  
“Why am I even alive? Sometimes I think that I would be better off dead. Not that I would do anything. I’m too fucking fond of living, drinking, having a good time with my friends, to want to see myself dead. I’m too egoistical and egocentric to even consider death. I like myself too much, and that is pathetic enough. What have I to like? I’m funny, Bahorel said, I make people laugh, but there is much more in life than making people laugh. A petty little thing, they laugh for a few seconds, then all is forgotten. I’m noisy and obnoxious! A fucking dreadful human being, I’m rude, how can people even want to spend time with me? Oh, that’s right. I make them laugh. Pah! If only I could make myself laugh right now, that sure as hell would be helpful. But I feel more like…” He squeezed his prick again, feeling his eyes overflow with tears. He just laid there for a while, tears running down his cheeks, letting out a pathetic sniffle and sob now and then, still with his cock in his hand.  
“This is pathetic. This is such a pathetic state I am in. Hard as a rock. Drunk. Crying. Why am I crying? Because I’m a failure? Because the man I want… oh, fuck. Enjolras. His neck. His pale neck, I would bite it and bruise it and kiss it and suck on it, he would look so fucking beautiful like that, and I can only imagine his moans. How sweet they would be. Him. Me. Naked in bed. I bet he hasn’t got any chest hair. He on top on me, writhing, moaning, making me writhe and moan.” He let out another sob. “His hair tickling my face… His erection rubbing against mine.” He started stroking himself again, still with some tears running from his closed eyes. “Him penetrating me… I would moan, groan, I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut. I… But he would never… Ever… Oh, fuck, Enjolras fucking me, hard, until I saw stars, until I couldn’t even think…” He jerked his cock as fast and hard as he possibly could. “Enjolras finally coming, deep inside me, I would feel his cum inside my body…” And at that thought he let out a loud groan, cum splashed down on his stomach and he panted, let out a sob and stroked his stomach lazily, swirling the cum around. “…but he would never do that.”  
He felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, the orgasm made him tired. A few minutes later he fell asleep, tears dripping on his pillow.


End file.
